The Prize
by natalieashe
Summary: Q has a crush on Bond. Bond is intrigued with Q. Moneypenny thinks it's high time they got together.


**A/N: little bit of lighthearted silliness, just because I can**

Q was slightly drunk and very giggly. Eve thought it was hilarious and very sweet, and quite the best way for a thirty-something newly single computer geek to spend a Tuesday evening after a nightmare break up from a boyfriend who quite frankly didn't have a clue what he'd given up.

Q thought Eve was _simply lovely_ and had told her so at least three times in the last half hour. He should have known better than to try to keep up with a girl who could give Bond a run for his money if the tipple of choice was G&T rather than whisky. He didn't do pubs _per se_, but Eve, _lovely Eve_, had threatened to shoot his laptop if he didn't take her out for a drink immediately so he had relented. Sort of. He had decided to drink Coke. Eve had decided each one needed a healthy slug of Jack Daniels. Occasionally Eve now had two heads.

"What you need to do is get straight back on the horse," She said earnestly, waving her drink at him slightly unsteadily.

"What horse?" Q said, totally mystified.

"The dating horse. You need a date."

"Why is there a horse?" Q was easily confused where Eve and alcohol were concerned and he was pretty sure he didn't like horses. "I've never seen a horse in real life."

"What the f-? Forget the _bloody_ horse Q, you need to get laid and forget about Michael, he is a tosser."

"Martin, and don't be uncouth Muss Minnyponny. Anyway I thought this was a date? This is a _nice_ date, no pressure to have sex at the end of it."

"Charming!"

"Not that you're not not pretty, but I just don't fancy you. You don't have blond hair and blue eyes and..."

"And muscles in all the right places? Stop talking Q, I think with all those negatives you just told me I'm ugly!" Eve sulked prettily, knowing full well how hot she was.

"Did so _not_ so! You're _lovely_!"

"Again with the lovely? What are you after?" she chuckled, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Oh look, at the bar - your blond, blue-eyed dreamboy just came in. Why don't you go chat him up?"

Q spotted 007 at the bar and felt his face flame. "I do _not_ fancy 007," he hissed petulantly at a grinning Eve.

"Oh you so do Q sweetie, and I'm pretty sure he likes you too. He's always flirting with you but you're too dumb to notice."

"Bollocks! He's so straight if he cut himself he'd bleed pure testertone.. Tostertone.."

"Testosterone?" Eve supplied helpfully. "Anyway, you missed your chance. Another Natasha Gerremov just arrived."

'Natasha Gerremov' was their silly in-joke name for all Bond's female conquests who seemed to lack the ability to keep their clothes on. Eve had admittedly almost become an NG herself, but they decided she was excluded from the club on the grounds she was the only person in the world who knew about Q's man-sized Bond crush and would willingly use it against him.

The red head seemed intent on becoming the next NG and was practically resting her ample breasts on Bond's chest much to Q and Eve's disgust. "At least I was never that brazen," Eve huffed, while Q just glared. Suddenly Bond looked up and caught his eye, giving him a wink. Q who had just taken a sip of his drink almost choked and Eve had to bang him on the back to get over his coughing fit. He recovered just in time to see the 00 agent stalking towards them, NG in tow.

"Having fun children? I didn't know you and Q were dating Moneypenny?" He said smoothly, not taking his eyes off Q's gorgeously flushed cheeks. Q grabbed her hand under the table and squeezed hard - their emergency code for 'unwanted suitor, act like my lover' - and grinned at her in what he hoped looked like a lovestruck manner but actually looked faintly homicidal.

"Um yeah... New thing," she managed, surreptitiously flexing her fingers to check if any were broken. She nearly had a heart attack when Q yanked her towards him with a surprisingly strong arm around her waist and started nuzzling her neck.

"Yes, and you are interrupting a very romantical eveing," Q slurred.

007 chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of interrupting your romantical eveing Q," he smirked, "be good children, don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That doesn't rule out much," Q muttered darkly at his retreating back as he guided the NG out of the bar.

Eve had the decency to wait until he'd left before rounding on Q and slapping his face. "If you ever start nibbling on my neck again without asking permission first I will delete your little 00-happy folder from your laptop."

Q blanched. No one was supposed to know about the 00-happy folder that may, or may not, have contained a handful of Q's favourite surveillance images of 007. Tasteful of course. Well, _mostly_, apart from a couple he'd obtained from Bond's fitness record that showed him practically nude. There were briefs. Very brief briefs that made Q feel pretty damn good sometimes. He glared at Eve's heads. "I hate you."

"Nope, apparently I'm your girlfriend now so you _love_ me."

"Piss off."

Eve laughed, her good mood restored by his insult. "You two would be so gorgeous together. Think of the gorgeous gay 00Q babies you could have! For my next mission I am so going to make this happen!"

"Mission-bloody-impossible Eve, he's straight and apparently I am too, girlfriend. Take me home and shag me woman before I throw up on you!"

"Oh Q darling you say the sweetest things!"

They staggered back to Eve's MI6 based flat, arm in arm, holding each other up and giggling like school kids. Neither of them noticed the smartly dressed broad shouldered man tailing them, tutting under his breath at irresponsible agents leaving themselves open to trouble by being intoxicated and incapable. Bond told himself he was doing the responsible thing, ending his date early to ensure the two idiots he was rather fond of got home safely, but actually he was curious about this apparent new development in their relationship. Eve was…. Well he knew all about Eve. She was sexy, sassy and great fun, as well as being an exceptional agent, even if she was a bloody bad shot. But Q was… a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma… or however the quotation went and Bond was _intrigued_. He knew next to nothing about his new Quartermaster, and the more he tried to dig, the more inscrutable he became. He wasn't even sure of his real age – Bond placed him in his mid to late twenties but a terrified minion from Q-branch had informed him that he was definitely over thirty. He liked technology - anything with wires and lights that made beeping noises – and he made some bloody amazing modifications to standard issue tech that Bond very much appreciated. He also appeared to be a bit of a lightweight where alcohol was concerned, and was a sucker for a pretty face, if he was indeed dating Eve. Bond waited outside on the street for Q to emerge and wander back to his own flat. After an hour he gave up and went home, feeling mildly annoyed for reasons he couldn't define.

When 007 sauntered into Q-branch the following morning Q had his head in his hands and was staring into the depths of his mug as if he was trying to scry the future in its surface. All it had told him so far was that he had a bloody horrific headache that was likely to get worse, and a dicky stomach that didn't really fancy its chances of keeping tea down. He pushed it away and looked blearily up at the smirking 00 agent.

"Good morning Q, sleep well? You look like shit by the way. Did the lovely Moneypenny keep you up all night?"

"Fuck off, 007," he responded, dropping his pounding forehead to the cool smooth wood of the desk and praying the reflection of the blond man in its smooth surface would take the hint and disappear.

"Hmm, she is quite a handful as I recall. You're wearing the same clothes."

Q lifted his head far enough to scowl at him. "Outstanding detective work 007 but I don't like you calling my friend..."

"_Girlfriend_," interrupted Bond smugly.

"...girlfriend... a handful. Why are you even here?" He grumbled, feeling trapped by the gorgeous but oh so annoying blue gaze.

"Berlin. Equipment?"

"Oh yeah... Um... Black box on the desk over there... Same as before."

"What? No further tinkering?"

"I do not _tinker_, 007. Now please... For the love of god... Piss off and let me die in peace!"

Bond chuckled, tucking the black case under his arm and pausing at the door. "Eight o'clock sharp Q." It took Q a long moment to realise he was talking about the mission.

Q's fingers flew across the keyboard occssionally flicking over one of the many touch screens as he readied Mission Control to link into Bond and communicate details of his mark. Eve hovered at his left shoulder, Tanner at his right, neither having a real reason to be there other than a ridiculous wager they'd discussed over a late lunch once Q had started to feel a little more human.

"Are you sure he'll agree to it?" Tanner asked dubiously.

"It's Bond! His ego wouldn't allow him to pass up an opportunity for an easy lay."

Tanner looked a little alarmed. "I'm in for the fancy meal and a ride in the Aston. No way I'm sleeping with him!"

"Relax, Bond can get through a date without sex. It's only missions he struggles with, which is rather the point of this little bit of entertainment." Eve grinned mischievously.

"Ok, ladies and gents, place your bets,"murmured Q, "about to patch in to 007 in 3...2...1... 007?"

"Receiving"

"Excellent. Your target is Francine Conti, daughter of a French diplomat, married to Marco Conti, head of Conti Global energies multinational. She has a flash drive in her possession that contains plans for the sabotage of a major nuclear installation. Old school, but no less dangerous. Liberate it, it you would 007? Brunette in the red dress at the bar. Partial to champagne cocktails. Two discreet bodyguards. And… go!"

Q pulled up the visual from the bar's CCTV focusing on the tall dark haired woman perched on the barstool. They watched Bond stride to the bar and order a drink, briefly making eye contact with the woman, delivering a devastating smile.

"Nowhere to hide a flash drive in _that_ dress," Q observed with a raised eyebrow. "Tanner?"

"Eight hours."

"What? He'll never last that long," Eve snorted. "Two!"

"What's the game this time Q?" Bond's amused chuckle came over the earpiece, covering his comment with a sip from his cocktail.

"How long you last before seducing the mark as the quickest and easiest method of obtaining the flash drive."

"I could just steal it," Bond pointed out.

"Never happen."

"So what's the prize?"

"Your choice."

"Which makes _me_ the prize? How delightful, I'm genuinely flattered." Bond laughed, deep, rich and sexy as hell. "And what was your prediction Quartermaster?"

"I'm directing you. It would be highly unprofessional of me to take part." Q said primly. "Pay attention to the mission 007 please."

"Q...?" Bond teased. God, that voice... Q's cheeks definitely did not turn a little pink.

"I bet you couldn't do it at all." He said brusquely.

"I'm hurt..." Bond breathed into Q's ear. "And she looks just my type too..."

"Breathing?"

"Tut tut Q, below the belt. Tall, slim, brunette... Yes, just gorgeous." He smiled at the mark who returned his interest with a distinctly predatory look that quickly blossomed into an alluring smile. "I think I can handle this one without your assistance Quartermaster. Unless you care to indulge your voyeuristic tendencies?"

Q shuddered even though he knew Bond was teasing. "Well at least you gave me the option this time. It was certainly an education," he said dryly. "Please keep your task in mind. Contact me when you're done."

Bond cut the link but Q remained at his post for a further ten minutes scowling at 007, master of seduction, working his magic until the couple rose and left the bar, Bond's hand resting lightly on the bare skin of her back where the dress dipped low. He glanced at the CCTV camera, knowing Q would be watching, and winked.

"Cocky bastard," he muttered. "At least that's me out of the running. Between you and Tanner now, Eve. I need tea!"

Q had just set his mug down by Mission Control when his private phone chirped in his pocket.

"_Seriously_ 007?" He glared at the small screen in his hand. "All the time and effort I expend in ensuring MI6 has secure communications tech and you fucking _FaceTime_ me?"

"Needs must."

"It's only been twenty-five minutes Bond. Old age is a bitch sometimes."

"An _experienced_ agent can always bring a mission to a swift conclusion when required."

The infuriating man twinkled at him. Q could tell Bond was reclining on a bed, but not the swanky hotel suite he had originally settled into. The crisp cotton sheets were clean but functional rather than luxurious and there was a dreadful print of a windmill screwed to the wall above the bed.

"Where the hell are you? I imagined your mark would appreciate a little more effort with the seduction. Budget hotel...? Not really her thing. Not really yours for that matter."

"Ah. I had to relocate rather swiftly. May have accidentally left most of my kit behind, sorry."

Q was about to launch into a tirade about the missing kit when he noticed Bond was turning something over and over in his nimble fingers, tapping it against his cheek as he did so.

"Oh my god, you got the fucking flash drive. And you didn't... _fuck_... to get it, did you?"

007 grinned wickedly from the small screen. "Such a beautiful mouth on you Q, I look forward to learning it's other talents besides cursing. Dinner first I think. Tomorrow evening, eight o'clock sharp. Wear something pretty." He winked and disconnected leaving Q staring at his phone in shock.

Eve squealed so excited for him that she reached a pitch only dogs could hear. "Oh my god, I knew it! I knew he fancied you too. You got a date with him. High five!"

Q gave her his best withering glare. "I have been royally screwed, haven't I?"

"Not yet sweetie, but I'm pretty sure he won't say no!"

"I hate you!" He said, excitement starting to fizzle in his stomach. He had a date with James-bloody-Bond!


End file.
